


Rule Breaker, Trouble Maker

by trashquing



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Dom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dom/sub, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of Excessive Drinking, Mentions of past drug use, More tags to be added, Paddling, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Spanking, Sub Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashquing/pseuds/trashquing
Summary: **[EDIT:  CHAPTER ONE WILL ALSO BE REWORKED/EDITED WHEN I POST CHAPTER TWO, MORE WILL BE ADDED AND SO ON, READ IF YOU WISH <3]**Well. Shit.Jaskier knew what he was coming home to. It was all part of the plan. He gets ready to go out, Geralt gives him rules to abide to, he breaks a few— all— of the rules given. He goes home,  gets paddled until his ass is blotched red and sore. Then Geralt edges Jaskier until he has tears in his eyes, sobbing and begging, promising to be good. Promising to follow the rules.He never did.***In which Geralt gives Jaskier some rules to follow, and Jaskier of course disobeys, multiple times, consistently. It's all fun and games until you hurt your dom's feelings.INSPIRED BY @Purely_a_trashcan's S&M series!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 136





	1. Poking the Bear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Purely_a_trashcan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purely_a_trashcan/gifts).



> Alright, be gentle with me. I haven't actively tried to write in THREE YEARS. 
> 
> This is, once again, inspired by the Ao3 user @Purely_a_trashcan and their S&M Geralt/Jaskier series. It's so good, and I love their writing, please check them out!
> 
> *not beta’d because I’m too impatient for that*

Well. Shit.

Jaskier knew what he was coming home to. It was always part of the plan. He gets ready to go out to home parties or clubs, dressed to the nines. Geralt, stops him at the door and gives him rules to abide to. Jaskier kisses him and promises to be good. Which is a lie, he always breaks a few— all — of the rules given. He goes home, always an hour or so later than the agreed time. Geralt expresses his disappointment and disdain for liars and unkept promises. Then he has Jaskier sprawled over his lap, paddling his ass until it is covered in large blotches of red and pink, tender and sore. Until his cock is weeping at the friction against Geralt’s massive thighs, twitching in pathetic interest at every painful smack of the wooden surface as it makes contact. Then, to end the night, Geralt edges Jaskier until he has tears in his eyes, sobbing and begging, promising to be good. Promising to follow the rules.

He never did.

Some of these nights, Geralt feels generous. He lets Jaskier come with a desperate and broken wail, even giving him a moment to breathe before cleaning up the mess he makes. Even going so far as to soothe his reddened backside with aloe. Those rough, calloused hands so undeservingly gentle as he slowly assists Jaskier down from his high. Those nights, when those big hands show him only love, he almost feels guilty for making Geralt worry.

Almost.

Other nights, like this most recent one, Geralt is not as kind. Particularly since Jaskier had been especially bad. It was all a part of their arrangement. Sometimes, Geralt would stroke Jaskier right to the brink of an orgasm, just a twist or two more of his hand that wrapped perfectly around his abused cock, and he would be coming. Twenty minutes of edging finally leading to an orgasm he knew would break him down and leave him a sniveling, whimpering mess. It must have been some sight, what with Jaskier on his knees, face down into one of their many pillows.

Fuck, oh, fuck. He was going to lose his mind, he was there. He was right there and—

It didn’t happen. Fuck, it didn’t happen. He was so close, God. Fuck, he was so, so close. Whining as Geralt slowed his hand to a stop. Jaskier choked, reaching beneath himself, between his legs, to hold Geralt’s hand in place and fuck into his fist, but Geralt had none of that as he simply batted Jaskier’s hands away. Then the damned bastard pulled his own hand away, leaving Jaskier to gasp on the loss of friction and sob into the very pillow he clutched onto for dear life.

“No! Nonono, Geralt!” Jaskier all but weeped, blubbering hollow apologies, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll be good! I’ve been good haven’t I?” Geralt sat up, back on his knees and watched the scene before him with an amused smirk. Jaskier was a mess.

His ass was still in the air, still red from his earlier spankings, and his cheeks riddled with bite marks. His hole exposed but not yet abused. Then his cock, pathetically spurting onto the sheets beneath him. A ruined orgasm. Jaskier glared over his shoulder with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, pulling the most heartbroken expression he could muster.

“You’re so mean,” Jaskier stated weakly, and Geralt chuckled. Fucker.

“You did this to yourself, pet. You deliberately disobeyed the rules we both agreed on. Why agree at all if you’re just going to throw a fit about it later? You know what happens.”

“...I know.”

“If you dislike these terms so much, we can renegotiate these rules. Or perhaps you can find yourself another dominant more suitable to your likings.”

Oh. That would not do.

At that, Jaskier quickly pushed himself over to sit up on the bed, ignoring the stinging ache on his ass, brows furrowed in a confused frown at Geralt. “What on Earth would I want a different dominant for? Geralt, love, you are like a dream.”

Geralt scoffed at that. “A funny way of showing it, songbird. Go, take a bath. I’ll clean the bedding.”

Jaskier scowled. He would have said more on the matter but he wasn’t about to push his luck any further tonight than he already had. He, instead, did as he was told and prepared his own bath as Geralt cleaned up. Afterwards, they cuddled together on the couch, watching nothing particularly important on TV. Even if it was interesting, Jaskier didn’t think he could bring himself to give it much attention. The new development in his and Geralt’s relationship regarding a smidge of insecurity was… well, it was something, and Jaskier couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t dare bring it up, but he never knew Geralt to be the insecure type. Possessive? Yes. Jealous? Of course. Though, insecurity could definitely play a role in his possessive and jealous nature. Perhaps he could use this to benefit him, and make Geralt lose a bit of composure. 

The idea made Jaskier practically shiver, imagine Geralt losing control and fucking him worth an inch of his life.

Oh yes, this would do just nicely. He could use this to his advantage.

*+*

Oh.

He should not have used it to his advantage.

Oh, no. Jaskier really had done it now.

Technically, Jaskier had done it numerous times, but this is where he seems to have actually crossed the line. And he wishes he could pretend he had no idea of this growing number of faults, but there was no denying he knew exactly what he was doing. It was going all according to plan.

Was.

In his defense, he thought the plan was ingenious. He was getting the exact outcome he had been hoping for, time and time again. 

Was.

This time, the party got a little wild. Excessive drinking was definitely involved. It was so involved, in fact, that Jaskier didn’t arrive back at Geralt's apartment until the early hours of the morning. The sunshine, as beautiful as the sunrise is, as it makes the sky blush above the horizon, did absolutely no wonders for his hungover mind. So, squinting, he pulled out the extra key Geralt had made for him and, to his worrying surprise, the door was already unlocked.

Jaskier had come home late again; far, far later than he had promised, if the morning light was anything to go by. His phone was off as well so he didn’t have to deal with Geralt telling him to come home at the height of his fun the previous night. These were the usual rules he broke when out partying, outside of drinking himself into a stupor, doing a line or two of coke, and sometimes playing chicken with a bit of molly. Two of those things didn’t happen this time, but Geralt would be disappointed nonetheless. On top of his usual offences, Jaskier was covered in phone numbers, glitter, and lipstick smudges. Perhaps a hickey or two, maybe a bite mark, but he really didn’t know about those until it was too late. Those were not part of his plan. Surely, Geralt would be understanding, right? Surely.

Jaskier peered into the apartment before he hung his keys up on the hooks by the door, which he turned to gently shut and lock behind him. If not to save his headache, then to save Geralt’s sleep. But really, he should have known better as he heard Geralt clear his throat behind him while he fumbled to leave his shoes by the door. He quickly spun around to face Geralt and regret it instantly as the room pulsed and his head throbbed. He grabbed the doorknob and his head to steady himself.

“Ah, G-Geralt! Good morning, my love! Sorry I was out a lot later than I said, and I perhaps drank far too much... and could barely walk, but, I’m okay, see? I figured I made the safest choice and stayed the night there.”

Geralt didn’t look amused by his explanation one bit, arms crossed as he stared over Jaskier’s form, noting each and every number written on him in pen, permanent marker, and various types of eyeliner. Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the marks on his neck and shoulder, exposed through the fishnet crop top he was sporting. He didn’t say anything.

Alright then, Jaskier thought to himself. He’s definitely upset. Nothing a little kiss can’t fix, right? Perhaps they’ll get right to the punishment. So, Jaskier smiled and uncrossed Geralt’s arms to get to his hands, and pulled them to his lips to kiss each knuckle. “I missed you,” Jaskier said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He looked up at Geralt through his long mascaraed lashes. “I’ll admit, the party got out of hand rather quickly, but I’m here now. I think I’ll take a quick bath, if you’d like to join me, love?” 

Jaskier leaned up to press a kiss to Geralt’s mouth but was met with stubble as Geralt had turned his head away at the last moment. Then he was pulling away from Jaskier completely, taking his hands back as well.

“Go bathe, Julian. You reek of alcohol. And scrub the ink off. I’ll make breakfast.”

_Ah,_ Jaskier realized as his ears rang with Geralt's use of his real name.

He’s very mad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier plays Animal Crossing, Geralt reads, it's overall uneventful but there's some feelings in the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add another chapter because I felt bad for making everyone wait for the part I had already written. Please enjoy!  
> Not beta'd, we die like men.

The day passed as uneventfully as ever. Jaskier’s mind reeled during his shower as he scrubbed and scoured his skin clean of evidence of last night's party, thinking about Geralt’s overall lack of reaction to his misbehavior, despite being obviously upset with him. His mind continued to wander afterwards as he sat across from Geralt at the kitchen table and a plate was set in front of him. Eggs, bacon, and toast. It looked delicious, as always. Then a clear cup of some eerily spinach green liquid was set in front of him. Before he could ask, Geralt answered.

“This will help your hangover.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier mumbled. For some reason he couldn’t bring himself to meet Geralt’s eyes. He knew he was in trouble, but the guilt settled at the very bottom of his stomach. This man, despite being mad, still cared for him. Not all was lost. Once Jaskier took his punishment, everything would be back to normal.

The day continued on lamely. They spent time together, but didn’t touch. Geralt mostly sat on one side of the couch, reading, while Jaskier was opposite of him playing Animal Crossing. They had lunch together, then it was back to doing their own thing in shared company. Typically, that was all fine and dandy because he loved Geralt and he loved being in the same space with him as they occupied themselves in comfortable silence, but there was something nipping at the edge of Jaskier’s mind. He should be tied up and spanked by now, pleading for mercy. Instead he was trying to figure a way to kill off Tom Nook in game, you know, for anarchy purposes. Or at least get some iron nuggets. Whichever came first. 

Day of course had turned to night as the hours passed, the natural light fading out of the living room as it neared dinner time. Geralt barely spoke to Jaskier all day save for this morning’s brief exchange of words. He should be worried, but perhaps Geralt was just waiting until after dinner to take care of him and serve out his punishment. The anticipation was exhausting, so, in one of Jaskier’s many bold moments, he stretched his leg out to nudge Geralt’s nearest thigh with his foot. Geralt simply glanced over his book, met with a grand smile from Jaskier. To which he just went back to his book. What the hell, man.

Jaskier’s smile fell and his face twisted into a confused frown as he nudged Geralt again, with a little more oomph this time.

Geralt seized Jaskier’s ankle with one hand to shove it off and pulled his book away from his face, eyes staring at the other coldly. “Yes, Jaskier?”

Oh thank God. At least it wasn’t Julian. He would ignore the mistreatment of his ankle for now.

“Hi?” Jaskier offered sheepishly.

There was an agonizingly long pause before Geralt let out a deep, frustrated sigh. Really, it rumbled from the chest, like it hurt to respond.

“Hi,” he finally said.

Jaskier edged the conversation on. “Do you… plan on speaking to me any time soon?”

“I am speaking to you.”

“Yes, through grit teeth, like the very thought disgusts you. Throw me a bone here, Geralt. What’s wrong?”

“I…” Geralt started, his mouth opening and closing, then opening and closing again before he pressed his lips into a firm line. “I don’t want to talk about it. Yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yet,” Geralt concurred. 

Jaskier huffed and set his game off to the side. “Surely you can give me more to work with than that. Come on, love. Are you… still mad about this morning?”

Geralt returned the huff with a grunt and brought his book back into his line of sight, properly blocking Jaskier out of view. That wouldn’t do.

“Geraaalt, please, talk to me. Use your big boy words now.” Jaskier whined as he scoot closer to the other on the couch. He could see Geralt’s face fall into more of a scowl as he felt Jaskier’s presence draw closer. Not sure how he could scowl any more than he was, but the man was always full of surprises. 

Jaskier got close enough to put a gentle hand on Geralt’s arm and the other on a very muscular thigh, holding himself steady as he leaned into the other’s personal space now. “Dear love, are you sure you don’t want to settle this now? I know I’ve been bad. Bring out the gags, the paddle- the cane for all I care. Is there anything I can do to fix this?”

Geralt got up abruptly and Jaskier all but fell back rather ungracefully, watching as Geralt glared down at him, his book now closed and tossed haphazardly on the coffee table before them. “You can start,” Geralt began, “by doing as I asked and leaving it alone. I will talk about it when I’m ready. You won’t like what I have to say either way.. But I need time.” With that he left Jaskier shocked and unsure on the couch.

He wouldn’t like what he’d have to say?

Oh, he really… oh he really messed up.

It was Jaskier’s turn to open and close his mouth, but before any words could be thought up, Geralt was out of the living room and in the bathroom to prepare for a shower. Leaving Jaskier utterly alone. There were so many thoughts running through his head and he couldn’t seem to pluck just one of them out. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths. Jaskier would just have to deal with the anticipation. Geralt was mad, and he had every right to be. And, he decided, he would listen to what Geralt had to say… if Geralt said anything at all. Oh, he really wished he didn’t push his luck.

He should never have taken Geralt’s insecure words and used them for his own benefit. It probably set in stone whatever Geralt was feeling- and it was all Jaskier’s fault. And wasn’t that a feeling that tasted bitter. Jaskier could feel his heart curdle and his stomach drop and his mind was going back to thinking up a hundred- no, a thousand ways he could make it up to Geralt. Flowers, perhaps. Maybe cooking his favorite meal? Maybe he could dress up and surprise Geralt after work… but none of that seemed fitting or grand enough.

Then he remembered what Geralt had just told him not even a few moments ago: 

_”I need time.”_

That’s all Geralt asked for, and as much as it hurt Jaskier, he would give it. He would be patient. He would keep his distance. And when Geralt was ready, then he would grovel.

If Geralt was ever ready.

Jaskier couldn’t help but think- what if Geralt was never ready? What if he messed it up between them for good?

**Author's Note:**

> hello I’m also on instagram (quingly.art) and twitter (trashquing)


End file.
